Just watched Black Swan this weekend, starring Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis. The movie is about the character’s psychological breakdown, which parallels Swan Lake’s story between the dark and light side of the Swan Queen (and no, I’m not familiar with the story). A subplot in the movie is Portman’s character’s struggle of technical perfection in ballet versus artistic expression.

Good Girl

When I started to write consistently, I had struggled with wanting to be the good girl versus the bad girl (not sure I’m doing myself any favors here). The good girl is being technically good at writing, and the bad girl is allowing myself to suck and the freedom to just write whatever comes out.

Which is better?

Bad Girl

So I started with the bad girl (yes!). I started to write Nightfall, and allowed whatever to come out, come out. I wrote sixty pages worth of material.

Then I talked to my friend who’s constantly working on being a technically perfect writer. He turned me to books and seminars that taught me how to be a good girl, how to write well technically. They focused on structure, emotional techniques, how to build depth in character, scenes, overall story, and provided a mechanic’s dream full of tools. More than what any writer would use in any single work.

But deep in my heart, I felt the bad girl pounding, wanting to get out and expose herself.

I’d talked to a friend recently, and she told me she wrote a book with her eyes closed. As far as I could tell, she’d done little research on writing technique or structure but was inspired to write. I haven’t read it so I’m not sure of the quality. However, when I was listening to her talk, the good girl inside shook me and said, “She’s crazy!”

Was my friend unconsciously incompetent (the individual neither understands nor knows how to do something, nor recognizes the deficit, nor has a desire to address it)? Google the four stages of competence and you’ll see what I’m talking about.

To be fair, my technically induced friend does allow for inspiration, and my crazy friend could be a great writer. But these two people showed up in my life as symbols of two extremes because I asked the question:

Which is better?

Choose me. No! Choose me.

In life, too much of anything isn’t good.

Humans can’t live more than a few days without water. But drink too much of it and people can die of water intoxication. Take in what you need. Leave the rest.

Today, I’ve used very little of what I had written during my purely bad girl days. But I learned what not to do, and in the process of my redemption, I had taken the time to learn. In doing so, I found out something interesting about myself that is the fundamental philosophy behind Bruce Lee: When one has reached maturity in the art, one will have a formless form. It is like ice dissolving in water. When one has no form, one can be all forms; when one has not style, he can fit in with any style.

What?

Learn what you need to learn. Leave the rest. You don’t and can’t know everything. Just make sure what you’ve learned doesn’t imprison your soul, that you can still express yourself wholly. Another words, forget what you’ve learned and just go with it.

As renowned photographer, Rodney Lough has said, “Art is the language of the soul.”

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

• Goals are important to accomplish what we want
• Brad Pitt has good genes and is lucky
• Success is defined differently for different people
• Just because you love something doesn’t mean you’ll be good at it
• Not every one can do what they love and get paid for it

There were plenty more.

Let’s start with defining success.  My first post never defined success.  It defined certain people’s level of success but never went as far as gave it a definition.  In this post, I will remain ambiguous on the definition of success.  Because who ever commented and said success is different for different people is correct.  I know a man who thinks he’s successful because he’s raised healthy, intelligent children.  I know fighters who’ve beaten great opponents who believe their own performances were below par.  Hell…Donald Trump hates being a multi-millionaire, and only considers himself a success when he has multi-billions.

Success is much like a goal.  Once you reach it, your work, the process to attain it, doesn’t stop.  If a fighter won her first fight, she doesn’t stop training.  She continues to train for the next fight.  If she’s won the world belt in her weight class, then she still has to continue to sharpen her skills for her first title defense.  What happens when she defends it successfully?  Celebrates?  For sure!  Beware.  There are others who are hungry for her belt.  Back to the process.  What if she loses?  Back to the process.

I love this one.  Brad Pitt has good genes and is lucky.  I’m not denying his good genes and looks.  What I do deny is his luck.  To say he was lucky is to deny the hard work he’d committed, wearing a chicken suit, working odd jobs, before he got his first major role.  Look at Steve Carrell.  He was an unknown comic for twenty years until luck struck him.  Luck?  No.  Hard work and perseverance?  Most definitely.  

And good looks was never a prerequisite for success in Hollywood.  With over a million good looking people in Los Angeles, it doesn’t explain Jack Black.  Now, some find him hot.  But he’s doesn’t fit the traditional leading man look.

This next one is good.  You can’t make a living doing what you love is a lot of people’s excuse to settle for mundane jobs.  I’m not saying quit your day job, lose your house, die of starvation.  Keep your day job, but work on what you love during your free time.  John Grisham is a great example.  He was a lawyer for ten years before he wrote his first novel.  He got to the office two hours before he started his real job, wrote, then started on his case list.  The awesome thing is he published his first book.

If you don’t think you can make a living doing what you love, then you won’t.  Simple as that.

Think you’d suck being a parent?   You will.

Believe you can run a marathon?  Follow up with action, and you will.

Whether you think you can or can’t, you’re right.  Henry Ford said that.  He wanted to create a V-8 engine.  He surrounded himself with brilliant engineers. You know what they said?  Can’t be done.  Ford pushed them forward, told them it was possible.  Through several failures, it was done.  Look it up.  True story.

The last one I want to tackle is:  just because you love it doesn’t mean you can be good at it.  Crap.  In Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers:  The Story of Success, he talks about mastery of skill.  He’d found one commonality among all world class musicians, artists, athletes, etc.  What is it?  Ten thousand hours of practice.  You want to be a world class anything?  Here it is, ten thousand hours of work.  That’s why you gotta love the process, not the goal.  Love the process, the goal will come many times over.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

The black one tripped the red one. The red ant dropped it’s meal. With no thought of revenge, it picked up the dead bug and continued on its way. The flow of ants out of the hill slowed the black one, allowing red to catch up.

The stream of incoming ants intersected into its path. Both had to climb above, then around, then pushed their way toward the main entrance of the ant hill. First black was ahead. Then red budged its way first. A wind blew, forcing both to drop their treasured meal. They scrambled to reclaim their packages.

Again, both trudged on, racing their way into the cavernous entrance. Once they entered, the tunnels narrowed, and the massive dead bugs scraped against the ceiling. It was loud and the sound of trains leaving and entering the tunnels blared. The ants lowered the weight right on their backs, making the trip through the tunnels harder. Thousands of others traveled up. Foot steps vibrated the floors. Black pushed through, passing red. Red was pummeled back, but it climbed above the others and flew by black. The trip made harder when the tunnels angled up. Each stair was taken one step at a time.

The opening came into view. A bright light shined down. The blue sky marked the finish line. Red made a push to pass the black ant. Black shove the red against the railing. Red grasped its prize and pulled itself up, digging its feet down and plunging forward. The end of the tunnel fast approached. Black and red edged each other, and it was hard to tell who was first. Thousands of ants poured out of the tunnel, and the cold air of their city greeted them. Narrow bands of the blue sky framed by massive sky scrapers. I shifted my backpack on red sweater, walked onto the street, entered my building, and logged on my computer. The day droned on as normal.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.